


Sepia Tones

by Anonymous



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Backstory, Canon Era, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins, One Shot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Present Tense, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 18:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14816244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: A glimpse into Kid Blink's life and his journey of falling in love with Mush Meyers





	Sepia Tones

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to sarahjacobss on tumblr!!
> 
> (also title is inspired by Durban Skies - Bastille)

Louis is five years old when he learns how to hide. 

The dull thuds on the stairs give enough warning and Louis scurries from the table to shuffle under the bed. Pressing himself against the wall as much as he can, Louis watches as the front door opens and a pair of boots thunder into the room. 

His father swears, voice slurring, and Louis doesn’t dare let a breath leave him. All he can do is hope and pray. 

Tonight, he is lucky. His father falls onto the bed, snores leaving him immediately and Louis lets out his first sigh of relief. Rolling onto his stomach, Louis tucks his arms under his head, ignoring how hard the floor feels. 

Better this than if his father had been more sober. 

Letting a few tears escape him, Louis can’t help but wonder if it will always be like this or if one day, a woman with a bright smile, arms open wide, will come and bring him to a home he has only dreamed of. 

* * *

It is his ninth birthday when he finds his patch. 

Louis stares into the window of a tailor shop, still not sure if he’s caught by his reflection or the clothes that sit on display. Such finery he can’t even imagine, he frowns, a hand reaching up to cover what remains of his left eye. 

A small bell rings and Louis whips his head to the entrance of the shop, seeing the tailor approach him. The man has a trimmed moustache, his appearance welcoming and open, so unlike Louis’ father, but that doesn’t stop Louis from backing away. 

Kneeling down, the tailor holds out a small piece of fabric out to Louis, the corners of his mouth turning up. “For you. It’ll help cover your eye.”

With a timid step forward, Louis takes the patch from the man and examining it before tugging it over his head. It fits like a glove and Louis smiles shyly. 

“Come see me when you grow out of that one, all right?” The tailor grins, standing at full height. 

Staring up at the man in awe, Louis nods slowly, wishing he could follow him inside the shop. Then, he looks down at himself, his clothes a painful reminder that he is to remain where he stands and he clenches his fists. 

For now, he is able to walk down the street without hanging his head in shame. He skips along the path, even stopping a few times to play with children who had ignored him since he had lost his eye. 

Even if it is false and short-lived, Louis has never been happier and when he arrives home for the evening, he takes off the patch, hiding it where his father would be none the wiser before sliding back under the bed to keep himself safe. 

* * *

He’s thirteen, Louis is sure, and he refuses to be beaten again. 

Tugging on his patch, Louis takes one last look around the apartment before he throws open the window and starts his treacherous climb down. He just has to make it to the fire escape. He doesn’t trust his hands and feet to do as they should, but he throws himself to the metal bars, wincing when his body slams into them. 

His grip remains firm and that’s all the reassurance he needs as he works on getting himself onto solid ground. Staring back at the window he looked out from so often, Louis gives it a salute goodbye before he all but races from the building. He needs to get out of this neighborhood, go where his father won’t be able to find him. At least not for a good few months. 

Once he’s saved enough money, maybe he will leave the city for good. He’s not sure yet. 

Wandering down street after unfamiliar street, it’s only then that the fear starts to creep up on Louis. Something could happen to him. At least with his father, he had a roof over his head. 

Then again, a roof doesn’t mean anything with the bruises that litter his body. 

Grunting to himself, Louis charges down the street, hardly paying any mind when he knocks into a few shoulders. 

“Watch it,” a voice warns and Louis doesn’t hesitate to stare them right in the eye. 

The owner of the voice rolls a cigar around in his mouth, but Louis doesn’t spare him his attention. Rather it’s the boy next to him that Louis can’t tear his eye away from. 

“What, you got a problem?” Cigar Boy speaks up again and takes a step forward, but the other boy with curly hair and deep brown eyes, holds out a hand. 

“You lost?” he asks, his voice gentle, kind. 

Something inside Louis cracks, but he keeps his stony facade and shrugs. “Depends.”

Cigar Boy looks fed up, but it’s Curly Hair who speaks up again. “Uh, well, I’m Mush. This is Racetrack. We’re newsies, staying in that lodging house up the way.”

Louis follows Curly Hair’s - Mush’s - pointing finger and can just make out a building on a corner. 

A newsie, Louis thinks to himself. Now that sounds like something he could handle. He’s been walking for hours, he’s sure he’s far enough away from his old man. 

“How do I–well, where do you–?” Louis shakes his head, not knowing where to start with his questions. 

“Costs six cents to stay the night,” Cigar Boy Racetrack speaks up. “We get our papes at the distribution centers. Fifty cents a hundred.”

“And you sell a penny a pape,” Louis answers, having passed by a few hawkers here and there. 

He does what math he can in his head and he finds the pay-off well enough. 

“What’s your name?” Mush asks and Louis can’t help freeze at this. 

“Uh...Louis,” he mumbles out, turning his head to the ground. 

They don’t need a last name. Don’t need to know whatever history he has. 

“We’ll get a nickname for you soon enough, kid,” Racetrack jokes and Louis frowns at him. 

“I’m the same age as you.”

Race raises his eyebrow, sticking his cigar in his vest pocket. “That so?” He seems surprised and Louis scoffs. 

“Yeah. Thirteen.”

Race laughs and nudges Mush who isn’t so quick to join in. “I’m fourteen. Mush here is thirteen though.”

Louis dares to meet Mush’s gaze, his heart thumping in his chest. All he wants is to know everything about Mush, his life up to this point, what he’s interested in. Then, Louis stops himself. What he wants is too close to something he can’t have. 

He isn’t attracted to other boys. It just isn’t right. He doesn’t need his head slammed into a table, insults screamed at him like the night before. Rubbing a bruise on his forehead, Louis looks away, his breath hitching when Race and Mush take a step closer. 

“We’ll pay for you tonight. Get you situated,” Mush’s voice edges into Louis’ tumultuous thoughts.

Louis can see Race raise his eyebrows at “we” but Race doesn’t make a move to say anything. For just a moment, Louis thinks to run, find another place, yet with Mush’s hand reaching out, Racetrack’s stare starting to soften, Louis pushes back his fears and steps into place between the two boys. 

Mush’s hand goes back to his side, much to Louis’ chagrin, but the three head down the street, Race and Mush yelling out the headline while explaining the guidelines of the newsie life. Even if he’s only known them for minutes, Louis has a fierce sense of protectiveness over Mush and, yes, Racetrack too. 

They treat him as if they’ve all been friends for years and Louis holds himself strong lest he break out into tears right in the middle of Manhattan.

~

The night is a blur, several faces and names rushing through his brain and Louis doesn’t know how he’ll be able to remember everyone. Some are easier than others, but he’s sure he’ll mix up a few tomorrow. 

Sitting on his bunk, Louis surveys the room, washed in a sense of calm. He’s not the center of attention despite being the newest member there and he gladly accepted the top bunk when it was offered to him. Glancing to his side, Louis watches as Mush gets ready for the evening before he climbs up on his own bunk, smiling at Louis as he relaxes against his pillow. 

“I got it,” a boy - Louis thinks his name is Boots - stares up at him. “Blink. That’s your name. Kid Blink, ‘cause Race won’t stop calling you kid and you got that eyepatch.”

“Everyone blinks,” Louis can’t help blurt out, but he likes the name already. He likes Boots. If he had siblings, he would’ve wanted them to be just like him.

“Yeah, but you only blink once,” Boots states with simplicity and Louis catches Mush stifling a laugh. 

Smiling down at Boots, Louis nods with a sigh. “Yeah, I guess I do, Boots.”

Boots lights up, beaming wide at Louis. “You remember my name.”

“You just got lucky,” Louis teases and Boots laughs before he goes back over to his bed. 

With another glance over to Mush, Louis grins at him, his heart soaring when he gets one in return. Telling himself it’s just the excitement of the day, Louis doesn’t let his mind wander any further and when the lights go out, Louis sleeps soundly for the first time in his life. 

* * *

Days, months pass by and Louis “Kid Blink” almost forgets to start saying he’s fourteen now. 

It was Race’s idea for Mush, Blink, and Race to celebrate their birthdays on the same day and Blink’s mind gets fuzzy when he tries to remember the actual day he was born. His shared birthday is much better. 

Last week, the three of them treated each other to different foods, ones they didn’t get so often. How Mush managed to get three oranges, Blink will never know, but he’ll cherish the taste for as long as he lives. It was one of his first proper gifts and he gave his friends wide smiles rather than falling to tears like he so wished to do. 

Whistling to himself, Blink strolls down the streets of Manhattan, shouting the headline when he can. It’s a bright, sunny day and a few papers are sold quickly, his pocket growing heavier with each coin. He takes a seat on a bench, breathing in the fresh air and smiling to himself. 

Never did he think he’d feel this good. This free. 

His father is practically a memory of the past, but it’s the scars that remind Blink what he’s survived. Glancing down at his arm, Blink notes the white cut that juts out past the sleeve of his shirt and he purses his lips. 

It had been an act of defense, one that just made his father angrier and Blink stops his mind before he dives in too deep. Taking a shuddered breath in, Blink tries to jump back into his selling, but darker thoughts creep up on him. 

In the scheme of things, he is nothing. Absolutely worthless. If he were to die, the world would continue on without him, not even noticing the absence. He doesn’t know why he keeps trying, why he keeps living. 

Blink’s hand claws at his head as if that will stop his mind, but all he can see is broken objects, a face red with anger and he stumbles into the nearest alley. Leaning against a damp wall, Blink tries to breathe but his throat tightens, knees weakening and he lets himself crumble. 

All he can think is how weak he is, that he can’t even take care of himself. 

“Blink?”

Squeezing his eye shut, Blink refuses to hear, see anyone and he jerks away when a hand touches his face. 

“Don’t hurt me,” he whispers, his hands and arms covering his head. 

It’s a useless phrase, a fist will come any moment, and he freezes when a pair of arms wrap around him. 

“It’s just me,” a voice draws him back. “It’s Mush.”

Mush. Of course. Mush won’t hit him. Mush won’t scream insults at him. 

Without hesitation, Blink grabs onto Mush, holding onto him as if he will fade away. Hot tears prick at his eye, but Blink doesn’t allow them to fall. Not until his face is buried in Mush’s shoulder where no one can see him cry. 

He’s so tired. 

By the time his tears have dried up, Blink needs Mush’s help to stand and Mush takes them back to the lodging house. Sitting Blink on a lower bunk, Mush sets to cleaning off Blink’s face, asking if he may touch Blink. 

Blink’s first instinct is to say no, but he remembers Mush’s touch and he caves easily. 

“Should rest for today,” Mush says when all is said and done. 

Blink goes to protest, but Mush’s stare is one to be reckoned with and Blink knows better than to argue. Climbing up to his bunk, the small bed never looked so comfortable and Blink collapses onto it, falling asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

~

It’s evening when Blink wakes up and he doesn’t see Mush in the bunk room. 

“Up on the roof,” Race helpfully supplies and Blink nods his thanks as he heads to the top of the building. 

The light breeze is refreshing, waking Blink up just a little more as he joins Mush alongside the edge of the building. 

“Thank you,” Blink starts, noticing how tense Mush’s shoulders are. “I...I don’t got too great of a past and it gets to me.”

Mush doesn’t speak right away as he turns to Blink. It’s almost agony, the silence between them, but Blink waits as patiently as he can. 

“I understand,” Mush speaks, shuffling closer to Blink. “I’m sorry. For whatever happened to you.”

Blink swallows, but he’s not sure how to reply. If he should at all. Clenching his fists, he watches as his knuckles turn white and it’s then that Mush starts, small and unsure. 

“My mother and me, we had a good life. Well, I thought we did, but when I was near eight, she brought me to the orphanage.” Mush lets out a shaky breath, his gaze focused on the ground below. “She didn’t even look back when I called for her. She just...she left me.”

A few tears spill from Mush’s eyes and, without thinking, Blink reaches over, wiping them away. The two stare at Blink’s hand and he snaps it back, shaking his head as he does so. 

“That’s...real awful of her,” Blink tries to overlook his actions. “I’m sorry.”

Mush’s lip wobbles, more tears spilling out of his eyes and Blink wonders if this is where he’s meant to share his story. 

“My old man beat me,” Blink starts, scratching at his scars. “Called me every insult he could. Made me...makes me feel worthless. Knowing I ain’t ever gonna be a real man.”

Mush opens his mouth, but Blink can’t help interrupt with one last thing. 

“He took my eye.”

It’s then that Mush’s face crumbles, his crying silent but only just so, and somehow he manages to ask a single question. 

“Can I hold you?”

Blink doesn’t need to be asked twice and he holds out his arms as he and Mush meet each other halfway. Without the cover of a towering wall, Blink feels exposed. It shouldn’t matter so much, but for Blink, the smallest gesture sends his mind in a flurry. It takes all his strength to just hold Mush, to not push him away. 

In the alley, his mind was too far gone to care, but here, on the roof, anyone could see. Could call them terrible things just because of their embrace. Because of their crying.

Mush remains firm and it’s in his arms that Blink can return the solidarity. They can pretend it’s just them. 

When the two finally take a breath in, their arms dropping, it’s then that Mush grabs onto Blink’s hands, giving them a squeeze. 

“I’m gonna take care of you, whatever you need,” Mush nods, sniffing just a little. 

Blink is taken aback, almost at a loss for words. Even if they’ve been friends for a year, the fierce loyalty in Mush is more than Blink could ever imagine. Finding his voice, Blink squeezes Mush’s hands back and meets Mush’s gaze. 

“I’m gonna take care of you too.”

Mush’s smile is a sight Blink will never tire of and with Mush leading them back down into the lower levels of the lodging house, Blink thinks this is where he’s meant to be.

* * *

Fifteen passes without incident. 

It’s nice, this age, and Blink almost doesn’t want to grow any older. He’s seated on the ground next to Race, glancing up as Race puffs smoke into the air. 

He’s still waiting for a reply. 

“I go to Brooklyn same as always,” Race mutters, now chewing on the end of the cigar. 

Blink rolls his eye. Race used to go every few days, but now he’s across the bridge like he’s a Brooklyn boy. Blink can’t help wonder how Race got on favorable terms with Spot Conlon, but with the sour look on Race’s face, Blink knows better than to ask. 

“Just miss you is all,” Blink answers, small, and he sees Race’s shoulders drop. 

“I’m sorry,” Race sighs, adjusting his hat. “I didn’t think about...well...anyway, we should do something, you and me.”

Blink likes the sound of that and he nods, getting to his feet first so he doesn’t flinch when Race stands. 

Race takes his time to stand up, but when they give each other an even nod, Blink lets out a sigh of relief. How can it be that two years have flown by? Blink can see the time slipping through his hands and he shuffles close to Race as they head out into the busy streets. 

Race checks over his shoulder at Blink, who is a step behind. When a carriage gets too close or the crowd thickens, it’s then Race makes sure he’s standing next to Blink, their shoulders brushing just enough for Blink to steady his breathing. 

Finally, they reach the sanctuary of Medda’s theater and Race takes them backstage, up onto the walkways where they can look down at the stage. Medda is testing out a new show and Blink’s nerves settle into the comfort of the darkness, how no one pays them any mind. 

“Hm, pretty,” Race comments as a singer comes on the stage, her dress flowing behind her. 

“I guess,” is Blink’s first response and he freezes when Race turns to him. 

When Race doesn’t question, Blink thanks the stars, his mind screaming at him for making such a silly mistake. 

“Mush is pretty, don’t you think?”

Blink’s heart drops to his stomach and he stares at Race, his eye widening by the second. “What?” Blink manages to squeak out just as the singer overtakes the theater. 

With a shrug, Race slides closer to Blink, who jumps away before shaking his head in apology. Race waits for Blink’s nod before he moves in again, slower this time, until their sides touch. It’s never easy, but Blink, bit by bit, melts into Race. 

“I think Mush is pretty. Not like Spot, but still. Pretty.” 

It’s barely heard over the soprano notes, yet Blink catches every word, his face flushing. Race is watching him, expectant, and it’s a shaky nod that leaves Blink. 

“Pretty,” he manages out, his mind drifting to Mush. 

No.

Mush is beautiful. His smile captures a room’s attention, his face glows in the moonlight. Pretty is too plain, everything is plain compared to Mush. 

Race grins at Blink, nudging his side a little and Blink hangs his head.

“Won’t tell no one, I swear,” Race whispers close to Blink’s ear, his face more than serious when he pulls away. 

“Thanks,” Blink breathes out, holding onto the railing for some semblance of balance. 

How Race had figured it out, Blink has no idea. Shame courses through his thoughts, but it’s the small reassurance, that Race feels as he does, which keeps him grounded. Mush drifts in and out, but Blink holds himself from thinking too much. 

Mush is beyond Blink’s reach and that’s all right. He has him as a friend, has Race as a friend, and really, he doesn’t need anything more than that.

~

It’s a lie. 

Blink needs Mush.

He tosses and turns in his bed, getting a pillow thrown at him for making the bed creak too much. 

It couldn’t have happened like this. He can’t love Mush. Not as lovers in the street do, not as a husband and wife would. 

Blink curls into himself, his mind betraying him every minute. Mush would never feel as Blink does and that’s the cold hard truth Blink has fallen into. He can’t help but envy Race, how he has something Blink may never have. 

He’s not sure when he falls asleep, but when Kloppman comes to wake the boys up, it’s as if someone left a brick on his head. Blink can barely focus through his grogginess, not even sparing conversation to those he normally can’t be quiet around. He leaves the lodging house before the others, unable to see anything but the street before him. 

He loves Mush. He loves Mush too much and he reprimands himself for doing so. All he’s done for Mush is take, leaving nothing in return. The nights Mush comforted him, the times he’s listened, amongst it all, Blink can’t think of a single good thing he’s done for Mush. 

Doubts tear at his chest and Blink struggles to breath. He wants Mush to know so he can make things right. Yet, as Blink thinks this, all he can hear is how wrong this is, how he is a stain on the world. 

Taking a sharp turn, Blink doesn’t go to the newspaper offices, but instead sprints to the nearest alley he can find. To his luck, there are several crates and he hides behind them, hot tears spilling down his face. Blink curls into himself as a sob leaves him, wishing, willing his heart to stop beating. 

He can’t bear feeling this way, to know how despicable he is. Wiping at his tears proves to be too much work and Blink hates the uselessness he feels. He shouldn’t be crying. Not even when he’s hurting. He believes himself weak for even thinking about the tears that fall. 

As much as he tries to punish himself to stop the crying, Blink continues to sob, and he doesn’t register the footsteps that approach him. 

“Blink?”

He doesn’t need to look up to know who it is and Blink scoots away, further into the alley until he’s trapped in a corner. Shielding his face, Blink finds himself without words as he hopes Mush will just leave him alone. 

“Can I come closer?” Mush asks from where Blink had crawled away from, his voice soft. 

Blink thinks of nothing else than being in Mush’s arms and he pulls his arms down just enough to nod. His eye follows all of Mush’s movements, his breath hitching when Mush sits down on the opposite side of the alley, face wrought with concern. Blink can’t take it anymore and he scrambles over to Mush, throwing his arms around Mush’s shoulders. He waits for Mush to take him in his arms, but when Mush doesn’t rush to do so, Blink takes a deep breath in. 

“You can touch me.”

Mush’s arms wrap around Blink and he buries his face into Mush’s neck, soaking in the touch with every breath. This feels so right, Blink doesn’t understand why the world calls this something other than what it is. 

Mush mumbles reassurances under his breath, fingers lightly running up and down Blink’s back and with each sweep, Blink can feel pieces of himself join back together. His heart beats in his ears and he knows Mush will never hurt him, even if he has trouble remembering so. 

It’s Mush’s words, his warmth, that stirs a strength in Blink that he never thought lay in him and he pulls back, breathing in deeply. 

“I love you,” he says, slow, shaking. 

He won’t blame Mush if he doesn’t feel the same. If they’re the friends he believes them to be, Mush will nod and leave it at that. 

Instead, one of Mush’s hands leave Blink’s back and he brings it forward to cup Blink’s face. It takes all of Blink’s will to not shy away, but the hand on his face is everything Blink needs in this moment. 

“I love you too,” Mush breathes and Blink knows he’s staring. “I love you so much. I know we both got problems, that this ain’t perfect, but I want to work on this. With you.”

While darkness creeps at the edges of Blink’s thoughts, he holds them at bay just enough to give Mush a small smile. Mush loves him. He loves Mush. With a small laugh, he buries his face in Mush’s shoulder, giving him a tight squeeze. 

“I was so scared,” he confesses, unable to help himself as he places a kiss at the nape of Mush’s neck. 

“Me too.”

Blink pulls back again, making sure it’s Mush’s arms that he’s in. Mush is so bright, so confident, how he could be just as scared as Blink makes his head spin. 

“I, uh, it was Race. Who got me thinking. Him and Spot are just...they’re beyond and I didn’t think we could ever be like that.”

“You figured it out too, huh?” Blink blurts out and ducks his head when Mush laughs. 

“Guess we gotta thank him,” Mush leans in, his face inches before Blink’s. “Kinda think he got us together.”

Together. A word never sounded so perfect and Blink nods, gauging Mush’s face. “Official already, huh?”

Mush laughs again, the sound comparable to music. “If you want. Whatever you want to call us, I’ll be happy with.”

Blink cards his hand through Mush’s hair, almost knocking his hat off in the process. Rushing to put it back in place, he can’t help match Mush’s smile and he climbs off his lap, holding out a hand to Mush. 

“Better get you some papes,” Mush notes as they make their slow exit out of the alley. 

Blink finds a few papers being passed in his direction and he takes the small pile from Mush. “You can pay me back tomorrow,” Mush says.

If they were alone, Blink would throw himself back into Mush’s arms, but the world is watching. Instead, Blink nudges Mush’s arm, mumbling out his thanks and his face heats up when Mush grins at him. 

“We better get going. We got a good headline today,” Mush leads them down the street and Blink quickens his pace to stay in step with Mush. 

So it wasn’t the most ideal confession. Had Blink been in better spirits, he might’ve found a nicer way to break the news. However, all of that seemed so miniscule now. He and Mush are something greater, something that gives him happiness he had never imagined.

~

Blink doesn’t care much for the winter.

From trudging through the snow to trapping the newsies in the lodging house, it’s an overall nuisance. It doesn’t help that everyone get sick and Blink wishes he had something easier to blame than the weather. 

He wrings out the hand towel, wiping away the sweat that beads on Mush’s forehead, and he holds tight onto one of Mush’s hands. A weak cough leaves Mush, his eyes fluttering as he tries to focus on Blink. 

“You gotta sell,” Mush manages in a raspy voice. “You can’t look after me all day.”

“You’re sick. I ain’t gonna leave your side,” Blink’s response is immediate, more harsh than he would like. 

Mush sighs, his eyes closing. “How’re you gonna eat? You’re spending all your money on me. I know you are.”

Blink bites the inside of his cheek, annoyed that Mush picked up on this. Truth be told, it’s not all his money. Race has chipped in plenty, but he’d sell his soul before letting Mush know that. What matters is Mush’s health. Blink will sell the clothes off his back if that means keeping Mush alive. 

“I’m fine,” Blink reassures, rubbing his thumb on the back on Mush’s hand. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

Mush laughs at this before he succumbs to his coughing, Blink rubbing his back until Mush heaves, rolling onto his side. While he doesn’t vomit, Blink makes sure there’s a bucket nearby should Mush need to do so. 

“I hate this,” Mush sighs, staying on his side. 

“I know,” Blink answers and he takes a glance around the room before settling on his decision. 

Kicking off his shoes, Blink crawls onto the bed, curling up behind Mush and wrapping an arm around his waist. 

“This too warm?” he asks, Mush’s body almost too hot while his feet are freezing. 

Mush shakes his head, grabbing hold of Blink’s hand and Blink can feel how difficult it is for him to breath. Soon enough, the breaths even out and Blink shifts up just to make sure Mush is really asleep before settling back down. 

He hates how he can’t do more. That he must simply watch as Mush teeters on the edge. If only he was the one sick just so Mush wouldn’t have any of this pain. Life isn’t as kind as that and Blink tugs Mush as close as he can, his hopes battling with his ever so constant fears. 

He’ll get better, Blink is sure, and he glares at the falling snow outside the window, cursing it in any way he can.

* * *

Sixteen and striking. 

Blink likes the sound of that, despite how daunting the whole situation is. He holds onto his friends, presses up against them for reassurances that everything’s going to be okay. No one bats an eye and Blink is grateful. 

They all fight. Shout and protest for their lives. Someone has to listen.

Blink can feel a fire light in him, but when Crutchie is taken, he falters, crumbling back into his old ways. Mush approaches his bed, standing where Blink can see him fully and he waits until Blink nods to join him. 

“I won’t let that happen to you,” Blink whispers. 

They were all just scared. No one meant for Crutchie to be left behind, but that doesn’t stop the guilt and Blink sighs. 

“If Jack can’t bust him out, you’ll come with me?”

“Course,” Mush nods, propping his chin up on Blink’s shoulder. 

Blink’s muscles twitch just a little, but he doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t want Mush bumping his head like last time. He glances down at the space between them and takes Mush’s hand in his own. He can hear Mush’s shaky sigh and he turns, placing a small kiss on the top of his head. 

He blushes as Mush raises his head, looking away so he doesn’t have to see the disgust on his face. 

“That was nice,” Mush breathes, a hint of a smile on his words, and Blink faces him, not believing his ears. “I mean it.”

Staring into Mush’s eyes, Blink sees more than just the truth. He sees hope, fear, life all wrapped up in the swirls of brown. He just wants to fall into them but instead he clears his throat, turning away. 

“We’ll do it again sometime, I’m sure.” The word spill out of his mouth and Blink winces just a little.

“I’d like that,” Mush takes to leaning against Blink again. “If you want. When you’re ready.”

Nodding, Blink relaxes into Mush’s touch, the strike far from his mind. To forget for a little bit won’t hurt anyone and Blink falls asleep with Mush’s fingers running along his arm.

~

Blink can hardly believe it. 

The strike is over as quickly as it had come and he swings Mush around in his arms, their laughter lost amongst the cheers of the crowd. When he sets Mush down, they hug tight, slaps on the backs interrupting their embrace. For once, Blink’s heated face isn’t out of shame but rather pride. They had toiled endlessly and now, seeing the encouraging grins of his fellow newsies, Blink doesn’t shy away from Mush’s arm around his shoulders. 

The day is still young, papers to be sold and the Manhattan newsies head to the familiar offices, ready for another round. They wait in line, buy their papers, and it’s then Blink pulls Mush out of the busy streets, into the doorway of a building. 

Mush smiles, his eyes asking, and Blink’s breath is taken away. Adrenaline courses through his body, the end of the strike still repeating in his mind. Their family is back together, he and Mush are doing all right, and Blink rushes forward, not wanting to waste the moment. 

His lips crash onto Mush’s and they stumble a little before righting themselves, Mush’s hands dropping his papers in favor of holding onto Blink’s face. Throwing his own to the side, Blink pulls Mush in close, arms wrapped around his waist as they hum into the kiss. 

Neither wish to pull away and the moment they do, they lean back in, small pecks and short breaths passed between them. 

“Okay,” Mush tries to interrupt, but it’s not until he lets out a small laugh that they break apart, still holding onto each other. 

“Ah, sorry,” Blink shakes his head, his face flushed. “Should’ve asked you first or...planned this better.”

“Blink, it’s perfect,” Mush tilts his head to get Blink to look at him. 

Meeting Mush’s eyes, Blink lets out a small sigh of relief, a familiar tug already drawing him in. 

“Wait,” Mush laughs, placing his fingertips on Blink’s mouth. “Let’s move this somewhere else. Don’t want neighbors getting mad at us.”

Glancing up at the buildings that surround them, Blink notes it is a little too spacious for the two of them and he picks up the abandoned piles of papers, handing Mush his before heading back into busier streets. 

Despite the need to feel more, the two focus on selling as best they can, once in a while pulling each other out of sight to snag one more kiss. 

Blink loves this. 

He’ll never tire of Mush’s smile, being able to share touches without fear. At least, without the fear that Blink is working on. 

He knows some days he can’t help it. He’s still trying to unlearn, but that’s all right. Mush is there every step of the way, the two helping each other through the worst days. At the end of it all, Blink wouldn’t want to be anywhere else and he walks close to Mush, arms brushing as they head to wherever their feet take them.

**Author's Note:**

> so, this was inspired by my friend, sarahjacobss!!! we got to talking about blink's past, maybe how he lost his eye, how his and mush's relationship came to be...and this happened!! so, thank you friendo for the inspo!!
> 
> also if you feel there is anything i should tag or that i should change the rating to mature, pls let me know :d i know there's some stuff i was able to handle as a teen that others might not and ye;;;
> 
> [Tingle](http://safarikalamari.tumblr.com)


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